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Are you even a parent if you haven’t argued over who was awake more times in the night or who was up the earliest with the kids? I mean, sleep deprivation and parenting may go hand-in-hand, but both have the tendency to fray tempers. Especially when the person next to you in the bed has the audacity to snore as you are trying to settle a baby back to sleep.

“It’s definitely your turn!”

You know how it pans out. The distinct aroma of a child’s skanky nappy starts working its way around the room – and it’s a game of who can make themselves scarce first. And if you are both unlucky enough to be on the scene at the same time as detection, it’s definitely not your turn to do it. Because you did it last time. And let’s face it, probably the time before that too.

“Where are the sodding nappies?”

You’re out and about with the brood, when the smallest one needs a nappy change. You reach into your bag to pull out a nappy – but there are none to be found. You know there was one in there this morning, because you checked. And then you remember the nappy change before you left the house, when your partner clearly raided the stash because they couldn’t be bothered to walk upstairs. And it’s definitely not a coincidence that they are now googling the nearest supermarket on their phone…

“It costs HOW much?”

Whether it’s investing in a new buggy to accommodate a new baby (because this one has tons of features we didn’t have with the last one), buying a dress that you saw online that you loved but wasn’t exactly thriftstore, or realising your two-year old now needs their very own seat on a flight and has nearly doubled the price of the holiday, it’s nearly impossible to navigate parenting without the odd argument about how much these little cash-guzzlers cost.

“Good Cop, Bad Cop”

One of you does most the legwork, changes most of the stinky nappies, does most of the night shifts, calms the most tantrums – and the other walks through the door and has little people running to them with a look of pure joy on their little faces. And when it comes to disciplining, there’s usually one that is seen as the soft touch, while the other gets a rap for being unkind. It’s all part of parenting as a team, but it’s bloody unfair – and you aren’t afraid to say it.

“Romance? Ha!”

Because children + romance = barely compatible. But one half of the couple probably wants to try anyway.

“You want to buy a mini bus?”

When kids come along, car dreams are shattered. And whether it’s the first leap to a sensible family car (when you were quite happy in that sporty little number) – or having to succumb to a mini bus when your brood expands, it’s rare you’re going to agree in the early stages of your ‘discussions’.

“The Wake-up Call”

Whether they flushed the toilet during nap time, shut the door a bit too noisily, or decided to ramp up the football a notch or two, if it’s their bloody fault that the baby woke up, you will be telling them. And then passing them the baby.

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

It doesn’t matter if it’s a legitimate reason. It doesn’t matter if they are dealing with an emergency at work or if the car broke down or if an old friend flew half way across the world for a drink and a catch-up, if they aren’t home by the time they said they’d be home to share the parenting, it’s nearly impossible to bite your tongue and smile sweetly when they walk through the door.

“Are you even listening?”

And when you’ve just completed a five-minute soliloquy about childcare dilemmas, the merits of every primary school in the area, or a list of adorable things your shared offspring did earlier that day and your partner looks up vacantly and says: ‘Sorry love, what was that? I don’t think I was listening…” Well. Seriously. They may as well just pack their bags now.

It’s Sunday evening and the kids are about to go to bed. My feet are in slippers, the central heating is cranked up, and a furry blanket is covering my knees. Outside, the temperature has plunged to 3’C and when I open the back door to throw a nappy in the bin, my breath smokes and dances in the air.

This isn’t where I expected to be in February. I expected to be in my dusty desert home in Dubai, enjoying after-school playdates to the park, planning weekend trips to the beach, and feeling smug about the perfect winter weather. After all, that is exactly where we have been for the last 7 Februarys. And being there at this time of year is the only real normality I have known as a mother. It was my ‘normal’.

But not anymore – because after our last-minute decision at the end of summer to bring our return to the UK forward, we have now been here for six months. It’s the longest I’ve been away from Dubai since my husband moved there in 2009 – and sometimes, the place I used to call ‘home’ feels so far away and so distant that it feels like it was all just a dream.

I’m not going to lie, the first six months back in the UK were hard – but this was kind of our own fault for making the decision without any forward planning. I’m sure that we’d have found it all a lot easier if we’d shipped our things back to the UK when we first left in July and found a family home to move in as soon as it reached us. Instead, it took us a while to get our bums in gear, choose a shipping company, have my husband single-handedly pack up our villa in Dubai, and then find somewhere to live in the UK that was close to school and would fit all of our children into. It wasn’t easy, but we managed it – and in December, a truck pulled up to our new home in the countryside and our belongings (all those “things” I hadn’t seen since we left for Dubai Airport in the early hours of July 7th 2017) came tumbling out the back and into the place we would now call ‘home’.

Christmas and New Year arrived very quickly after that, making it feel a little bit like we were on holiday – but as soon as we returned home from skiing and settled into a routine with school and work, life started to feel normal again. Not the “normal” I was used to – but a “new normal”. And very quickly, it started to feel right that we were here.

In the darkest hours of the last six months, I thought we’d made a big mistake. So many times, I told my husband I wanted to go back. To turn back time. To re-register the kids at their school, to resume the play dates with the friends that felt like family, to be reunited with our nanny, our favourite weekend spots, our favourite malls, our favourite restaurants, and the life that I had loved so much. But since we settled into this new house in the UK countryside, I have realised that I wasn’t really missing many of those things at all – I was just missing having my life in order. I wasn’t missing Dubai – I was missing the feeling of normality, of security, of having my feet firmly planted on the ground. The exception, of course, is my friends – but I’m no stranger to missing the people that I love. I’ve been doing that for the last 9 years and I can handle long distance relationships better than anyone.

And of course there will be days in the road ahead where I miss that old life with such intensity that it takes my breath away. Yesterday was one of those days. I pined so much for those friends, those old haunts, and the feeling of sunshine on my skin that it nearly brought tears to my eyes. But by bedtime, I was OK again. And I know I need to accept I’ll feel like that occasionally – and that it’s OK to look back and say ‘Wow, I loved living there. I really did!”

There are so many things I am enjoying about being back in the UK. From the impromptu visits to grandparents to feed the children their tea, to ordering weekly Tesco deliveries to our door, to the weekends suddenly having this incredible possibility (“Shall we visit a 15th Century Castle today, kids? Why the hell not!”), to getting invites from my school friends to birthday parties and baby showers and being able to type back ‘YES!”, to holidays being about where we want to go now, rather than spending all our spare money on flying back to the UK.

For a long time, I didn’t think I’d be as happy as I was in the sunshine in Dubai – but I know now that I can be.

I will be.

I am.

As soon as we became expats, I knew I’d always love two places, two sets of people, two homes – but the easiest way to describe it is that finally it feels like we’ve got it the right way round.

The right way up.

And I am sure, finally, that we made the right decision back in late August.

1. If you thought your pregnancy flew by the second time, you will be shocked by how quickly it goes with your third. After all, you are far too busy refereeing sibling scraps to focus too much on the baby growing inside your tummy. You are unlikely to bother downloading pregnancy apps either – you’ve already maxed out the memory on your phone downloading apps for the kids, after all.

2. You may not notice the weeks ticking past – but by god, you will notice the bump. You will pop earlier, fit into maternity clothes quicker, and master the perfect fake smile for when passers-by ask if it’s twins. And by the end? You probably won’t be able to walk more than a few steps without feeling like the baby is going to fall out, which is ironic considering you have two small people under your feet who expect far more entertainment than just a few steps.

3. You don’t fear birth. Oh no. In fact, you daydream about that bit in the hospital after the baby is born from the moment you see that positive pregnancy test. You may have a demanding newborn to tend to, but they won’t be able to move – and what a luxury that will be!

4. You will have an argument with your other half about to fit all your children into a car. It’s unavoidable. And it will go on for months.

5. You always knew it would be a challenge to leave the house in the early days, but you will still be shocked by how long it takes to move three small people through a front door. If it isn’t explosive newborn nappies, it’s toddler tantrums and last minute dashes to the loo. And you may as well accept now that you will forget something crucially important every time you leave the house. In fact, if you remember all three children, you should count that as a win.

6. Once in a while, however, you will get to leave the house with just two of your brood and the feeling of freedom will surprise you. One hand for each child? What luxury! You’ll have to stop yourself hop, skipping, and jumping through the streets in celebration. And rare occasions with just one child? That is classed as a holiday.

7. If two children scrambled your mind, wait until your third baby arrives home. From the moment you walk through the door clutching a car seat with a sleepy newborn, your mind will start doing funny things. Lunch boxes will get muddled up, weekly timetables forgotten, birthday parties missed – and, most disturbingly, you will have to run through every name in the house (including the one belonging to the cat) before you strike lucky and match the right name to a child.

8. If you thought the comments about your ginormous bump from complete strangers were annoying, wait until you venture out with all three children in tow. Despite a good chunk of the adult population coming from families with three or more kids, it will quickly become apparent that 99% of those you pass in the street are shocked at the sight of your brood.. ‘You’ve got your hands full!” they will quip, as you glance up, force a smile, and promptly manage to trip over a child.

9. They do have a point though, as there will be moments in the early days when you stand back, see your other half with three little people, and feel genuinely shocked by how many children are now in your care. And when travelling with those children, you will watch young, single ladies in high heels and perfect lipstick glancing in horror and the general noise and chaos coming from your direction – and you will want to scream ‘I WAS LIKE YOU A FEW YEARS AGO! JUST WAIT! IT WILL HAPPEN TO YOU TOO!”

10. But despite it all, you will not regret having that third child for a second. Not one single second. You never doubted that you would love this child – after all, you have done it twice before and know that your heart swells with every child you grow – but you did find it hard to imagine how this tiny human would fit into your family. But right from the moment you cradle that warm newborn on your chest, you will see that you had nothing to worry about. And when their older brothers and sisters get the chance to gaze into their baby sibling’s eyes for the first time, your heart will skip a beat. And that is the very moment you will realise it was the best decision you ever made.

Remember when you spent hours planning and decorating that nursery for your first child? Oh the pastel colours, the wall décor, the personalised prints, and the pretty bedding! Lucky first born. And then you did the same for your second, albeit on a smaller scale (or at least planned to re-arrange the furniture so they could share a room). But get that positive pregnancy test with your third – and one of the first thoughts to flash through your mind is ‘do you think the baby would mind sleeping in the airing cupboard?” And 9 months on, you’re still wondering…

2. Do you want to drive a bus?

It is feasible to fit three car / booster seats across the back seat of some cars, of course – but if you don’t want to play referee to fist fights as you drive in the fast lane of the motorway, it makes sense to buy a bus. Well, I say a bus, but that’s mainly because I’m still convincing my eldest child that it’s all fun and games in the back row and is exactly like a bus journey. And thank goodness for parking sensors now I am a bus driver. Thank goodness for that.

3. Do you want to be outnumbered?

Two adults. Three kids. I can’t get my head around how that will work. Not yet. I need more time.

4. Are you prepared to be heavily pregnant with two crazy humans running around?

You’ve done it before with a toddler / small child and remember it being brutal towards the end – but you managed, right? What you didn’t consider is that with double the fun at home, the exhaustion is also doubled. Especially when the oldest one no longer naps and thinks it’s funny to poke you in the eyes when you nod off on the sofa at lunchtime.

5. Have you checked the hand-me-downs?

Having a third baby seems like it won’t be an expensive thing, as you have hand-me-downs, right? Until that is, you check through the boxes in late pregnancy and realise the vests are now yellow, the trousers have holes in the knees, and the moses basket has been squashed under a box for the last 3 years and is now flat as a pancake. Oh and so many lovely new things have gone on sale since you last shopped for a baby – so an entire new wardrobe, stroller, cot, and bouncer won’t harm anyone, will it? (ker-ching).

6. Do you like holidays?

It’s a while until we attempt to travel as a five-some – but I recently did some investigations into the additional costs of another bum on an airline seat (not that she’ll put her bum on a seat for a while, but you get my gist). Let’s just say that after snorting my cup of coffee in shock, I have decided we will probably won’t be travelling again until at least a couple of the children have left home (and that’s not even taking into consideration the extra luggage…)

Wilfred: Worried about my Mummy’s face. Not sure whether it’s a rash or something, but it doesn’t look right.
Jacob: Tell her to go to hospital
Thomas: Lots going round.
Betsy: Have you got a photo?
Wilfred: She won’t stay still long enough. I think it’s spreading.
Jacob: Don’t want to worry you, but she should go to hospital.
Primrose: You’re trusting a bunch of babies on the internet for opinions? See a doctor!
Wilfred: Panic over. It was chocolate.

Stanley: Bike. Blue. 50p. Pick up today.
Delilah: Do you have one in pink?
Eddie: I’ll give you 2p?
Joey: Sent a PM
Rosie: Next in line please.
Eddie: Will you take my 2p?
Joey: Did you get my PM?
Stanley: Not for sale anymore. In trouble. Belongs to my brother.

Wilfred: Anyone want my dog?
Emily: What colour is it?
Primrose: This is terrible. You can’t give away your dog!
Frankie: How much?
Wilfred: I will swap it for a cat.
Primrose: You are a bad person!
Emily: Is it pink?
Wilfred: Can make it pink. Do you have a cat?
Primrose: Reporting you to admin.

Stanley: Does anyone know a small boy with yellow hair that lives near here?
Jessica: Why?
Rupert: My hair is yellow. Why?
Stanley: He stole my spade in the play area earlier and I want to tell his Mummy.
Jessica: Same thing happened to me last week. Sent a PM.
Betsy: Have you got a photo?
Jacob: This is bad. Put up posters.
Lily: Going tomorrow. Will look for him.
Wilfred: Thanks.
Rupert: Sorry don’t know him.

Wilfred: What age did they take your dummy?
Emily: Still got it.
Honey: Never had one! So bad for you! You’ll never talk properly! You’ll be stupid!
Emily: Not true. I can count to 10.
Wilfred: Not true. I know 6 colours.

Stanley: Helper needed. 20p an hour. Needs experience with Playdoh.
Rosie: Interested. More details please.
Jonny: Sent a PM.
Emily: I am good with Playdoh. Let me know please. Need pocket money.
Stanley: Thank you for all the messages. Especially interested to hear from anyone that knows how to get blue Playdoh out of a white rug.
Jonny: Ignore my PM. Thanks.

1. Dealing with a two year old mid-tantrum is nothing compared to negotiating with a four-year-old that doesn’t agree with the plan. Tantrums eventually end. Negotiations, however, can still be going on three weeks later.

2. Keeping your cool when a two-year-old responds to everything with ‘NO!’ is far easier than keeping your cool when a four-year-old responds to everything with ‘NO” and then adds “POO POO HEAD!”

3. They do not nap. That is all.

4. There is an unwritten rule of being a four-year-old that the very moment of bedtime is the very best moment to sit on the toilet for 20 minutes and do a poo. While commentating loudly through the process.

5. Two year olds like to run away when you need to get them dressed. Four year olds like to do exactly the same – but when you catch them, they flatly refuse to wear your outfit choice and spend the next 20 minutes demanding to dress as Batman instead.

6. You get away with nothing. Thought you could slip that scribbled masterpiece from school into the bin? Think again. They’ll suddenly remember a few days later and fruitlessly search the entire house for evidence.

7. They are no longer trapped in a cot or confined to a sleeping bag, which means they can join you in bed whenever they want to. And they will – especially at 5am.

8. They can’t drive. But they think they can. And they’ll bark instructions from the back seat to ensure you do it properly.

9. Just when you didn’t think life could get more complicated, they make their own plans. From birthday party guest lists, to friends coming for play dates, you’ll be informed of their decisions roughly 3 minutes before they are supposed to take place.

10. The noise. You were so proud when your two-year-old started stringing words together. It couldn’t be more adorable! But two years later, they just won’t stop. In fact, if someone invented a volume switch for children, you’d be the first to invest.

In my mind, lifts (or elevators, if you like) are for people that can not use stairs or escalators. This is namely people with buggies and people with disabilities. Anyone else can hop on the escalator and have a little daydream while they climb a few floors – unless they are feeling lazy, that is. Waiting in a queue with these people makes me irrationally angry. And the main thing is that I just don’t understand why they want to be in a queue with my children? If I was them, I’d be on that escalator in a second, laughing at the queue or poor people that have to squeeze into a tiny lift with a two-year-old having a tantrum as he wants to ride the escalator. He belongs to me, of course, which is part of my anger issue.

2. People that glare at you when your child has a meltdown…

Talking of tantrums, I find it very hard to keep my cool when somebody in the vicinity expresses annoyance when my child is screaming. However annoyed they are by my child’s presence, it is guaranteed that I am even more annoyed by it. If they’d like to swap, I’d happily sit and listen while they wrestle an angry, red-faced, sweaty toddler. In fact, it would be my absolute pleasure.

3. Children that reject a perfectly yummy home-cooked meal…

“Oh Mummy, you spent an hour in the kitchen cooking, peeling, and chopping? I honestly don’t care as this mashed potato isn’t to my taste. My mouth is on strike until you produce something sweet. That is all for now” *Mummy explodes*

4. People that park in Parent Parking Spaces when they have no children / have teenage children…

This is a UK gripe, as we don’t have parent spaces in Dubai (sadly I think I’d be even more irritated if we did, as they’d be the most convenient spaces and therefore the first ones that would be taken, every time). But when I am back in the UK, I just don’t understand why these people can’t get to grips with the premise that getting children out of car seats, pulling buggies out of boots, and getting toddlers safely through a dangerous area full of moving vehicles requires a little more work than it does for the general population to pull up, climb out, and reach the supermarket. If they’d like to swap places and take my children around the supermarket for the pleasure of a short walk from their car, I would definitely be prepared to hire them out for an hour.

5. Children that rip books…

Books are precious. Books are sacred. Books only work when they are in one piece. So when I hear the awful, gut-wrenching sound of a page of a book ripping in two, I feel blood rush into my ears and my anger explode. I don’t care if my son is two and hasn’t yet appreciated the role of books in the world. It’s the Gruffalo – and now it’s missing the bit about the snake.

6. Any noises that wake up my children from a nap…

Cars that beep when people lock them (who designed that?), people that ring on the doorbell at inconvenient times (I mean, the cheek of them), random things that fall off chairs in bedrooms (inconsiderate ghosts clearly pushing them), air hostesses that knock arms on long-haul flights with trollies (stupid trollies). Anything that causes my child’s eyes to pop wide open after I’ve tried so hard to send them off into a peaceful slumber is worthy of my wrath…

For nearly 4 years, your blue bunny has barely left your side (not that he is blue anymore, but more of a grubby grey).

You slept with that bunny every single night, your fist clutched tightly around him as your chest rose and fell with each sleepy breath.

I have lots of pictures of you with bunny; right from the first day you arrived in the world.

Bunny came on aeroplanes and you held him up at the window to show him the snow-capped mountains below. Bunny went to nursery when you were little, in case you needed comfort or were tired. Bunny came on long car journeys to visit friends and relatives. And Bunny was clutched in your hand when you came to hospital to meet your baby brother for the very first time.

Always your sidekick.

Always your favourite.

An extension of you.

A reminder of your babyhood.

Until something happened.

We innocently picked up ‘Puppy’ during a trip to IKEA.

You spotted him and held out your arms like you’d found a long-lost member of your family. The look in your eyes was unnerving – but we agreed you could keep him as you’d been quite well behaved (and quite frankly didn’t want that to stop in the middle of a shop that causes more arguments than any other shop in the history of the world).

Your brother got a similar model – and you were both thrilled with your cuddly dogs, clutching them all the way to the checkout area. However, we fully expected them to be relegated to a shelf in your bedroom shortly afterwards and quickly forgotten about. After all, every other soft toy you have ever owned (bar Bunny, of course) has been discarded in a pile at the end of your cot or bed in a fit of ‘why are you trying to make me love these stuffed things?‘ rage.

In your brother’s case, that was very true. In fact, I don’t think he’s even looked at his stuffed dog since that morning – unless it was used as a ramp for his remote control car, that is.

But Puppy is different.

He has practically become a member of the family.

And I don’t like it.

You think it’s all very innocent, the ever-increasing presence of this floppy brown dog.

But let me enlighten you; he is an imposter.

Where was he when you were crying for milk as a newborn? When you felt unsettled at nursery as a toddler? When you were scared at take-off on an airplane? When you were frightened of the dark and needed something comforting to clutch?

I’ll tell you where he was! He was on a shelf in IKEA!

But Bunny was there. He never let you down.

Yet whenever I walk into your room at night to check on you after you’ve fallen asleep, it’s not Bunny lying across your little chest.

It’s Puppy.

The new sidekick.

And Bunny lies at the end of the bed, discarded and unloved, face-planted in the duvet.

It’s like the story of Woody and Buzz all over again.

I know you’re growing up Stanley.

You are nearly 4 years old and let’s face it; the bunny rabbit with a grubby blanket attached was never going to make it to your teenage years.

1. Snatch one of his snacks from his bowl when he isn’t looking and run away with it in your mouth.

2. Lean over his shoulder when he’s playing a game on Mummy’s phone and jab at the screen repeatedly.

3. Wait until he’s built the tallest tower from his blocks – and then shriek with excitement as you knock in down.

4. The same goes for sandcastles.

5. Ruin a game of ‘hide and seek’ at a playdate by standing next to his hiding place and shouting ‘BROTHER! BROTHER! COME OUT!’

6. Walk casually past him clutching his favourite cuddly toy.

7. Grab the remote control and manage to switch off the TV when he’s watching Team Umizoomi.

8. Dare to go anywhere near his latest school library book with grubby hands.

9. Pour water over his head in the bath and laugh.

10. Interrupt him repeatedly when he’s trying to tell Mummy about his latest ideas for his birthday party in 3 months time.

11. Grow big enough to fit into a pair of pyjamas that he deems to be his.

12. Sit at the top of the slide at soft play and refuse to come down, even though he’s behind waiting for his turn. And when you do eventually slide down, refuse to move from the ball pit below it just to annoy him for a little longer.

13. Drink out of a cup labeled with his name.

14. If he thinks he’s won a race and shouts ‘I’M THE WINNER!” just keep repeating the words ‘NO I THE WINNER!” over and over again.

15. If Mummy says “No pudding until you both finish your tea!”, make a special effort to eat very, very, very slowly.